


Catch Fire, Burn the Stars

by kaeorin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Desire, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fuck Or Die, Longing, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, Protective Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Self-Doubt, Sex, Sex Pollen, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, magic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: While tracking down another rogue Asgardian, you and Loki run straight into her in an alley. When she doses the both of you with old Asgardian sex magic, will you let Loki help you?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 547
Collections: Spring Time with Loki





	Catch Fire, Burn the Stars

There were a lot of things that you expected to find when you rounded the corner and turned down a deserted alley in the middle of the small Eastern-European town, but an Asgardian supermodel was not one of them.

Okay. 

She probably wasn’t a supermodel. Asgard probably didn’t need supermodels. But she certainly looked like an Earthly supermodel. She was hovering in the air a few feet above Loki, who was shouting at her to come back down. She looked past him at you, and her eyes were like ice. Though she said nothing, you caught the way her lips curled into a smile, and she slowly floated back down to the ground.

“You’re working with them,” she said to Loki. Her voice was musical. Even knowing what you knew about her, it was hard to tune her out. You’d all been thoroughly briefed: Freya was a powerful, beautiful goddess from Thor and Loki’s home world. Much like the Freya from Norse mythology, who had strong ties to love, beauty, war, and death, this Freya was a collection of contradictions. She was beautiful, but deadly, and, by all accounts, she didn’t have much regard for life on Earth. All of you had direct orders to bring her in alive, if possible. If not, dead was fine too. This close to her, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit powerless. How were any of you supposed to bring her in? 

Once her feet were firmly planted on the ground, she took several long, graceful steps toward you. You wanted to back away, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. Her smile grew wider. When she was just a few steps away from you, she stopped. “I’d imagine you have your orders, don’t you, little foot soldier? Are you meant to blow me away right here with your man-made weapons, is that it?”

You shook your head before you’d even decided to do it. Was she controlling you right now? No, that was ridiculous. You swallowed once, with some difficulty, and searched for the words. Looking at her was a little like looking directly into the sun. “You can come with us. No one wants to hurt you.”

She laughed, a musical, twinkling sound that seemed to fill the small alley. “‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ said the ant to the boot.” Even bitter and mocking, her voice was beautiful. She looked back at Loki over her shoulder, which finally allowed you to do the same. His face was pale and pinched, his lips pressed firmly together. Had you ever seen him like that? His eyes met yours and made your blood run cold. He didn’t know what to do. Freya turned back towards you with a soft, knowing hum. “The prince has found himself a mortal plaything,” she said in a singsong voice. 

“Leave her. She can’t hurt you.” Loki sounded more or less like himself, which you tried to view as reassuring. “Look, it’s just the two of us. You can go. I won’t say a word, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t either.”

“I’ll never understand you boys.” Her voice was still raised: she was still talking to him, despite the way her eyes never left your face. “Concerning yourself with creatures like this when you could have anyone you desired back home.” She lowered her voice now, as though revealing some great secret to you. “You might not know this, but Thor’s dalliance with that scientist made him a laughingstock. You are no more to the likes of us than… Those domestic creatures that so many of you have in your homes. The loud ones. What are they?”

Between the adrenaline flowing through your veins and those striking ice-blue eyes fixed unblinking on your face, it was hard to think. Still, you spoke quickly—even though you would rather have fixed her with as cold a glare as you could muster. “Dogs?”

Still another beautiful, melodic laugh burst out of her, and she reached out to take your head in both of her hands. You froze, waiting for the pain, but she only pressed her lips to the top of your head. “Dogs. That’s it. You are no more than a dog to me, little foot soldier. And the same to your partner.”

“Release her.” Loki’s voice held more fire now, but he was no closer. Was he frozen in place with the same uncertainty that held you, or was he even more unwilling to hurt this woman from his home? “Take your hands off her.”

And she did, eventually. But first she hummed against your scalp and drew in a breath. When she did release you, she took a step backwards and slid one hand into her pocket. In one fluid motion, she pulled her hand back out and blew a cloud of glittery dust into Loki’s face. He fell back coughing, and you tried to go to him, but she stepped in front of you to stop you.

“What did you do to him?” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt. You clenched your hands into fists. Punching her was probably a stupid decision, and sure to sign your death warrant, but you were so _angry_. She stepped closer to take a firm grip of one of your arms and spun you around to watch Loki struggle.

“Relax. He’ll be fine in a moment. Watch.” One cool hand slid around your throat, but she merely held your head in place. Sure enough, Loki’s coughing soon subsided, and he was able to straighten once more, breathing normally. “See, little dog? Your master is well again.”

“He’s not— I’m not—” Fuck, which should you protest first? You tried to fight her off, but her grip was still iron. “We’re nothing like that. You sound jealous.”

“Jealous?” She laughed again, but lower this time. Dangerous. It sent chills through your body but you refused to give her the satisfaction of shivering. She lifted her other hand until it was right in front of your face. She held more of that dust cupped into her palm, and for a moment you thought she meant to make you blow it at Loki. You struggled again, but it was still futile. She lowered her head to rest her chin on your shoulder even as she moved her hand closer to your face. The both of you watched as she forced your head backwards by tilting your chin up, and then covered your mouth and nose with the hand that held the dust. It filled your nose immediately, and made you choke. It tasted like nothing, and felt more like sand in your mouth than glitter. Gasping for breath only made it easier for the dust to invade your lungs, but you needed to breathe if you had any hope of fighting for your freedom. Your heart pounded in your chest even as you dug your nails into her skin, to no avail.

She was laughing. The edges of your vision began to blur.

When she finally released you, you fell to your knees and clawed at your face to try to scrape the dust off of your skin. Loki was arguing with her, his voice tight and angry, but she just kept laughing. Dimly, you were aware of Loki shouting “She is _Midgardian_ ,” but you couldn’t care about that right now. Her voice came again, surely some kind of smug retort, but then there was a deep chill in the alley, and then a feeling of intense pressure, and then she was gone.

“Are you alright?” Loki knelt before you now, arms half outstretched towards you. He sounded...worried?

“Yeah, fine.” It was a lie, but it was the only answer you could give him right now. You let your head hang down another moment or two, and then ran your hands over your face. They came away bloody. You startled and touched your nose, which you were only just realizing was dripping blood. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Hang on...” Pointlessly, you patted the pockets of your suit in hopes of finding some long-forgotten tissue or something. Finding nothing, you were forced simply to pinch your nose closed. You ventured a look at Loki over the back of your hand and raised your eyebrows. “So. That was Freya.”

“That was Freya.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, and then offered a hand to help you up. Briefly, you thought about refusing his help, but before you could, he reached out to grab your free hand anyway. His skin was warm, so much warmer than usual, and a pleasant sort of tingle ran up your arm. A thousand questions spun through your mind, but you couldn’t work any of them into actual words. If you stood there gawking uncertainly at the man before you, surely that was expected at a time like this.

He was still holding your hand. When you looked down, it seemed to spur him to action. He squeezed tightly, once, and started to lead you out of the alley. For some reason, you let him.

***

You were the last two to make it back to the jet and, when you did, you let Loki do all of the talking while Nat and Wanda ushered you away to clean you up. You answered their questions as thoroughly as you could, but you weren’t overly interested in replaying your interaction with the target. Thankfully, they didn’t press you very hard. Wanda wiped your face with a warm cloth while you spoke, and Natasha watched from a distance with her arms crossed. They both must have known that you were holding something back, but apparently trusted you enough to believe that it wasn’t something that would impact the team.

In truth, Freya’s words still echoed in your head. Nothing more than a dog to Loki. You two weren’t anything special, and you definitely weren’t as involved as she clearly thought you were, but you’d never really given a second thought to your vastly different origins. He _was_ a god, though, and you were merely human. But he never treated you like anything lesser. As imperious and frustrated as he could get with the rest of the team, he was rarely anything but courteous and even kind to you. 

“Are you alright? Your face is warm.” Wanda pressed the back of her hand to your forehead, then to your neck.

“It’s from the cloth.” You gestured to the cloth she still held in her other hand. It was still a little bit warm when she pressed it gently to your nose.

“She could have killed you.” That was Natasha, and the cool flatness of her voice betrayed just how concerned she was. “Why didn’t she?”

You shrugged and accepted the cloth from Wanda so you could hold it yourself. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the last thing you wanted while looking into Natasha’s gorgeous face was to have bloody snot dripping from your nose. “She was more interested in taunting Loki, I guess. Did a lot of monologuing about how low humans were. Typical bad guy stuff.” You shrugged one shoulder and tried to stand up. Wanda backed away to give you some space.

“Well, how did she get away? Did he let her go?” Natasha’s arms were still crossed.

“No, I don’t think so.” You gestured vaguely at your face. “She shoved dirt or something in my face and then they argued and then it felt like she opened a portal or something. He was pissed. I don’t think he let her go.” You knew full well that Loki would be angry if he felt like you were defending him, but you also didn’t want Nat looking at him with any more suspicion than she did already.

“Come on,” said Wanda in a small voice from behind you. She reached out to press her hand to your lower back, and you very nearly arched into her touch. That was weird. “Let us go and sit. We need to go home and figure things out.”

Even in a private jet, the trip home took hours. Things were mostly quiet. You’d taken a seat by yourself so you could look out the window and try not to think about your failure. Now and then, Thor would try to say something to Loki, his rumbly voice just loud enough to be heard, but Loki never seemed to respond. Steve and Bucky must have chatting, because you heard their laughter every once in a while, but you couldn’t make out many of their words. No one else had anything else to say, which left you more or less on your own.

Was there something wrong with the engines? The plane seemed to be vibrating more than usual. A low, insistent hum traveled through your seat and made you...well, uncomfortable. At first, you tried to ignore it. No one else had noticed anything amiss, after all, and you didn’t want to be the one to say anything, so you kept your mouth shut and your eyes focused on the view outside. But it grew...not stronger, exactly, but more noticeable. Harder to ignore. You crossed your legs. Uncrossed them. Crossed them the other way. Scooted lower your seat. Scooted higher. No matter what you did, there was no escape. Finally, you gave up and rose to your feet. 

Walking across the jet to the washroom was definitely easier than sitting there in that seat. Whatever was going on with the jet, you hoped someone else would notice it and report it to the proper technicians. You weren’t about to be the one to tell them that it was vibrating like a—

“Are you still well?”

Loki’s voice was far too close behind you, making you jolt and spin around. Had he followed you to the washroom door? You put one hand on your heart and attempted to draw in several breaths. “Jesus, Loki, give a girl some warning or something...”

“Are you well?” His voice was strained. When you looked up at him, he looked...warm. Was he sweating? And why were you struck with the sudden urge to reach out and stroke his brow?

“I’m fine,” you lied again. You were certainly not going to tell him why you’d actually gotten out of your seat. “It’s just the trip, you know? It’s...long.”

He took a step forward and pressed his hand against the wall, nearly trapping you in place. But he didn’t speak for a long time. He just seemed to be...breathing. When he finally raised his head to look at you again, his eyes looked odd, but it was hard to put your finger on exactly why. “You’re not feverish? Sore? From _her_.”

Freya. Right. You attempted a laugh and shook your head. “I know I’m just a human, Loki, but we’re a lot sturdier than she thinks we are. You should know that. I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. Are _you_ alright? You seem—” But with that, he stood up straight again and stalked away from you. Alright, fine. You watched him go before ducking into the washroom.

When you got out again and reluctantly made your way back to your seat, he was already sitting beside it. He didn’t look up when you stood beside him, and made no efforts to stand up for you. Any other day, you might have given in and gone to sit somewhere else. The jet was huge, after all, and you weren’t entirely thrilled about that specific seat anyway. But today you felt like you couldn’t. You wanted to stand your ground, show that you weren’t just some trained poodle. So you cleared your throat. He didn’t even look up.

“I want to sit over there,” you said in a low voice. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He continued to ignore you, instead staring straight ahead. You crossed your arms impatiently, but when he still had yet to move several moments later, you sighed.

“Alright, then. You did this to yourself.” You braced yourself against the seats in front of him and lifted your leg to climb over him. Naturally, just as you did, the jet hit a pocket of turbulence which sent you stumbling to his lap. You were straddling him, and there wasn’t much you could do about it until things calmed down again. His hands found your hips immediately, likely reacting to the shock of a full-grown woman landing astride his knees, and you tried to stand. All you could do was duck your head and mumble desperate apologies until you could finally try to stand up again. 

When you did, his grip prevented you from moving right away. Your heart sank. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Just as before, that question was like a catalyst. He let his hands drop away from your hips and leaned his head back against the headrest. “You’ve done nothing. Don’t worry.”

The rest of your attempt to get back to your seat was relatively uneventful, and you sank down into it with burning cheeks. Neither of you spoke for a long time, so you directed your attention out the window again and did your damndest not to squirm or fidget too much at those vibrations.

Finally, he leaned in a little closer and said in a low voice: “You should touch yourself. I won’t look.”

The words were like a splash of cold water directly to your face. You sat up straight and jerked your head around to look at him. His eyes were closed. “I beg your pardon?” Surely you had misunderstood him. He’d probably said something much more benign, but the sound of the engines and your own racing thoughts had twisted his words and now you looked like a fool for reacting so strongly. His face remained carefully blank.

“That dust that she ground into your face was something from dark times in Asgard. The story goes that a king took a wife who did not want him. He went to an herbalist, like a witch, and asked for a potion that would make her want him. When he mixed it into her tea, she was finally overcome with desire. In my time, people more commonly used it as a novelty—something to liven things up in a long-established relationship. It lasts until you reach...completion with a partner, but if you put things off too long, the side effects can be...severe. I don’t know how old hers was, or how potent, or even if it will work on a Midgardian, but if you’re...feeling things, you can touch yourself. It won’t fix anything, but it can delay the pain.”

Your mouth was extremely dry. He didn’t sound like he was lying to you, but this also felt very much like one of his pranks. You gripped the armrests and crossed your legs again, pressing your thighs very tightly together in hopes of dulling some of the vibrations. “I’m not feeling anything,” you said in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. “I told you, I’m fine. It must not work on me. Don’t worry.”

He turned his head towards you, then, and opened his eyes to fix you with a level stare. You blinked once, but did your best to maintain a neutral expression. He was the god of lies, sure enough, but he didn’t seem entirely himself right now. Maybe you could fool him. You had hoped that he would give up, then: stand up and go back to his brother, perhaps, or else find some other uninhabited section of the plane and sulk by himself, but he merely closed his eyes again, turned his head away from you, and remained exactly where he was. 

You continued to squirm. Now that he sat so close, you were excruciatingly aware of how frequently you moved, but you had no other choice. The alternative was even more horrifying than looking like a fidgety mess: there was no way that you were going to let yourself orgasm right here in your seat, surrounded by your colleagues. So you grit your teeth, pressed your knees together so tightly that your thighs trembled, and did your best to make as little actual contact with the seat as possible.

Loki slept.

Over the course of the next few hours, your face grew steadily warmer. Whether it was the temperature of the cabin, the vibration of your seat, or Loki’s fanciful story working its way into your head, you faced several distinct moments of weakness. For all appearances, Loki was sound asleep. Would it really be so bad if you...perhaps stopped fidgeting quite so often and let things...take their course? Surely you could do it in perfect silence, could sink your teeth into the heel of your hand and appreciate whatever blessed relief you could get? 

Each time the thought crept in, however, you stole a glance at Loki. Suppose he wasn’t asleep. Suppose he was only pretending, in hopes of catching you doing something so humiliating here in the middle of all of your colleagues? 

So each time, you pushed the thought away and did your best to strengthen your resolve. Your face felt damp, but your mouth was dry. You would have loved to get up for a drink, but you weren’t about to risk landing in Loki’s lap again. You tipped your head backwards to lean against the headrest and tried not to groan. All you wanted right now was a cold glass of water, a nice cool shower, and _not to be on this jet._ You were starting to get sick to your stomach.

When it finally landed, you were probably the first one on your feet. As soon as you jumped up, Loki opened his eyes. Of course he hadn’t actually been sleeping. Some small, petty part of you wanted to tell him that you hadn’t fallen for his tricks, but he looked at you with such dark, hungry eyes that your tongue suddenly felt too big for your mouth. You couldn’t look away.

He licked his lips, an action that had no business being as distracting as it actually was, and stood to face you. He reached up to touch your cheek, and while every part of your brain told you to try to flinch away from him, especially given how clammy your skin must certainly be, you instead leaned into his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut and you sighed. It felt so nice. _He_ felt so nice. Gently, he brushed his fingers along your cheek, and more of those pleasant tingles spend through your entire body. Had anyone ever touched you like this? Your heart was thudding in your chest, and it seemed that every cell in your body was straining towards him, aching for him. How could you draw a breath?

He said something, but you couldn’t make it out. Were the lights dimming, or was that just you? You pitched forward, suddenly very unsteady, and for the second time that day, you found yourself falling towards Loki. The world went black.

***

“There she is. Welcome back to the land of the living!”

You tried not to groan. Bruce’s blurry face swam before you, a little too cheerful despite the way his brows were knit together. You were lying down on some kind of table while he hovered above you. The med bay? You covered your eyes with your hands in hopes of blocking out the lights while you tried to remember just what had happened. The alley. The beautiful goddess. The dust. The plane. The fever.

“What happened?” Your mouth didn’t feel quite as dry, but your throat did feel sore and scratchy. Exactly how long were you out?

“You’re supposed to chase every alcoholic drink with a glass of water, you know.” That was Tony’s voice, and while you couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from, you figured it was probably a good guess that he wasn’t actually floating somewhere near the corner of the ceiling. Why were you so loopy right now? “You got dehydrated, kid.”

“I don’t drink on missions.” You pulled yourself into an upright position and were gratified when Bruce took a step away so you could swing your legs over the edge of the table. You looked to him for confirmation. “Dehydrated?”

He nodded. “Just a little. You had a high fever, and that probably contributed to it. We gave you ice packs and IV fluids. How are you feeling?”

‘Like shit’ came to mind, but you didn’t say it out loud. Now that you were conscious, you could feel that same insistent heat beginning to grow in your belly and between your legs. There was no escape. You ducked your head and sighed. “I’m fine. Do you know what caused it?”

Bruce shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Loki explained when he brought you in. We’re running tests on the dust now. Until we get the results back, I kind of vote we just stick with what he said. Your body is, uh...hot. Um, not like… I mean.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stepped away, clearly flustered.

“It’s like a heat. I told you. Your body is desperate to copulate with another. You’ll stay like this until you do.” Loki’s voice made you flinch. He stepped closer to the bed, but didn’t touch you. The sadness you felt about that, the strange sense of loss, was entirely wrong.

Tony snorted and stepped closer, taking Bruce’s place standing before you. He did, in fact, reach out to take your hand and an involuntary moan escaped before you could stop it. He laced the fingers of one hand through yours and covered the back of your hand with his other palm. You had to close your eyes. “Let me tell you, sweetheart, if you’re looking for a body to copulate with, I would be happy to volunteer as tribute, okay? I’ll save you.”

Most of your brain knew that he was joking, knew that he was still deliriously happy with Pepper, knew that there was not a single universe in the multiverse theory in which he was doing anything right now but attempting to lighten the mood, but the way he was touching your hand distracted you from all of that. Your entire body felt like one giant exposed nerve, and you didn’t want to pull away. If your brain wasn’t so sluggish, so foggy right now, you’d probably have some kind of witty retort, but all you could focus on was the feel of his work-rough hands against yours. You drew in a ragged breath.

Loki stepped in to save you. He moved close enough to rip your hand away from Tony’s and closed it within his own. His muscles were tight with anger. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “She doesn’t need you.”

Tony’s eyes widened a bit, but he held up his hands as though in surrender and stepped away. You leaned to peer around Loki at Bruce. “The dust. He probably didn’t tell you, but she blew it in Loki’s face too. Shouldn’t he be getting fluids?” You heard Tony laugh a bit, but he didn’t actually say anything. Bruce shrugged at you even as Loki attempted to step between you to block your view.

“He wouldn’t let me run any tests. He seems fine? It sounds like you got a much stronger dose than he did. I don’t know how much more we can truly know, but we’ll know more soon? Maybe?” Bruce leaned to the side a bit to try to meet your eyes, and you smiled at him.

“Do you want to stay here?” Loki interjected, sounding as cool as ever. He tugged gently on your hand as though to show you that he was talking to you. “I can take you to your room, if you’d prefer?”

“Ooh, I would,” you sighed, already thinking about your shower. And your bed. And perhaps the toy in the drawer of your nightstand. “Bruce? Can I?”

“Sure. FRIDAY can keep track of your vitals and alert someone if anything happens.” He quickly returned, stepping gracefully around Loki. “Let me just get this...” 

He reached for your arm with the IV. The unexpected contact made yet another whimper pass your lips, this one considerably more...pornographic. With both of your hands occupied in one way or another, there was no way for you to cover your face, so you had no choice but to duck your head. “I am so sorry,” you mumbled, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I didn’t mean…” You loved Bruce; he was great to spend time with, and he was brilliant, but...not like that. You needed to lock yourself away from every other human being as soon as possible, before you started inspiring memos from HR.

“It’s not your fault,” he replied, thankfully keeping an intensely professional tone as he pulled the IV out of your arm and covered the mark with a bandage. “Don’t worry about it.”

When he was finished, Loki all but yanked you off of the bed, away from him, but you kept your head down so as to avoid having to look any of your colleagues in the eyes. Your face was burning. How much of that was the fever?

***

You would have expected Loki to drop you off at your room and then flee to his own, but even after you awkwardly thanked him and stepped inside, he trailed behind. 

“What are you—” He was standing so close. He smelled so good, like heat and spice and leather. Without thinking about it, you reached out to touch his chest. He reacted immediately, going stiff but covering your hand with his to keep you from pulling away. Was that his heartbeat? It was so fast. “Are you okay?” You spoke softly, remembering how that question made him close himself off again on the jet.

He didn’t speak for a long time. His fingertips traced the back of your hand, your knuckles, even as his thumb slid across the tender underside of your wrist. “Let me stay,” he finally said in a low voice. “At least for a while. In case you swoon again.”

That made you pull away. The idea of swooning like some kind of medieval princess made you cringe. “I _fainted_ ,” you corrected as you shut the door and stepped away from him to clear your head. “I had a fever and you kept me from getting any water on the jet.” The increased distance did a little to dull some of your desire, but not enough. You went to your dresser to get something to change into: an old t-shirt and sleep shorts. You couldn’t bear the thought of putting pants on—not even pajama pants.

“I did not,” he said fiercely. “How did I keep you from getting water?”

“I thought you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up, and I wasn’t going to try to climb over you and end up sprawled across your lap again. I allow myself one humiliation per day, and that was it.” Having obtained your change of clothes, you turned away from him. “I’m going to shower, okay? You...can stay, if you want. Make yourself at home.” 

With that, you fled into your en-suite bathroom. Closing that door behind you did a little bit more to block out your awareness of Loki in the next room, but it was still hard to ignore him. You dropped your clothing onto the closed toilet seat and turned on the shower a little bit colder than you thought you could take. There must have been some reason people always talked about cold showers, right?

You peeled off your suit, steeled yourself for the torture, and stepped under the spray. Fuck. Your overheated skin made the water feel so much colder. You yelped despite yourself and reached to adjust the temperature until it was a little more bearable. 

Almost immediately, you heard the bathroom door open, and never before in your life had you been more grateful for your opaque shower curtain. Still, you crossed your arms over your chest just in case Loki had magically developed x-ray vision or something. “What is it?” 

“I heard you cry out. Are you alright?” Even with the sound of the rushing water, there was something about the low timbre of Loki’s voice that made you want to go to him. You tamped down that urge as quickly and as fiercely as you could. 

“I’m fine,” you said for the umpteenth time that day. “It’s...the water was cold. Don’t worry. I’m not going to faint again.”

He didn’t say anything for a while—almost long enough that you thought he’d already gone. But then you heard him draw in a breath and release it. 

“Be careful. If I hear you fall, I’m coming back.” He didn’t wait for a reply: you heard the door click shut again. You let your arms fall to your sides. For a moment, you were distracted by the idea of Loki rescuing you from the bathroom: how he’d scoop you effortlessly into his arms and carry you out into your room. You’d still be dripping wet, utterly exposed to him, and he’d lay you down on your bed…

No. Stop it. You stood up a little straighter and reached for your shampoo. You were here for a reason, and that reason was _not_ so you could get carried away fantasizing about a colleague. You washed your hair a little bit more roughly than normal, desperate for any kind of sensation that could distract you from the growing ache between your legs. The cold water wasn’t helping much. Sure, it was easing the fire under your skin, but even the spray couldn’t distract you from your arousal. When you were finished with your hair, you picked up the bar of soap and tried to rub it along your skin as little as possible. Even your own touch felt heavenly, made you ache for more. When you washed your chest, your nipples were already hard and sensitive, and you found yourself straining towards your own touch. Things were getting serious. Uneasiness settled in you like a boulder.

Finally, you couldn’t take it any longer. You reached over to make the shower even colder, sank your teeth into your lower lip, and then touched yourself. You were slick and swollen, and your fingers felt better than maybe they ever had before. It didn’t take long before you were coming, and coming hard. It was hard to keep from moaning aloud, but somehow you did it—perhaps because you knew Loki was nearby and sure to be listening for any signs of distress in here. Your muscles clenched and released over and over again, nearly sending you to your knees. Your mind kept conjuring images of what it’d be like if Loki were here with you, if you were coming hard around his throbbing cock with his hands fisted in your hair. It was hard to breathe.

Your orgasm lasted far longer than normal, and when it was over, you noted that your legs were trembling. Wonderful. You took a few moments to try to regain some of your composure, then did your best to wash away the evidence of your arousal. 

When you were finished, you turned off the water and stepped outside. Your moment of weakness helped a bit: you were able to dry yourself off and pull on your clothing without getting distracted by...well, your own body. As you stood in front of the mirror and brushed your hair, however, that heat began to grow again. You gripped the edge of the counter and groaned. How in the world were you going to get through this?

Quietly, you opened the bathroom door and stepped back out into your room. Loki had settled himself in the wingback chair beside your bed. His head was thrown backwards against the back of the chair, and his eyes were closed. His hands— _oh_. He was touching himself. You stood frozen, taking it all in. He’d pulled himself out of his trousers and was working his hand slowly along his length. The tip of his cock was thick and red, and even from here you could see how it glistened with pre-cum. You swallowed hard. Should you look away? 

You couldn’t. 

He was thick—another thing you could tell despite the distance—and long. He had perhaps the most beautiful cock you’d ever laid eyes on. He worked himself slowly, but with a growing intensity that took your breath away. You could tell that he was close. You could feel yourself clenching in sympathy as he tipped over the edge into orgasm, and you smiled to note that he shielded himself with his other hand to keep from making a mess of your room. Some base, desperate side of you pouted a bit at the knowledge that he wasn’t coming down your throat or filling you up. The thought startled you, and you ducked back into the bathroom to wet a cloth with warm water.

When you brought it out to him, he accepted it with only a mumbled thanks, and you turned away to busy yourself with the items on your dresser so you could give him some privacy. You didn’t turn around again until you heard him zip himself back up, and then you perched on the edge of your bed.

“I should apologize,” he began, not quite looking at you. “I wouldn’t normally—”

But you cut him off with a short, humorless laugh. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything to me. Trust me, I get it.” Lord, did you get it. The frenzied heat in your body was already building back up to its previous levels, despite your icy shower and your moment of weakness. How could you have possibly made it through the entire trip home? Idly, you worried about spontaneous human combustion. On a more realistic level, you worried about soaring blood pressure or just...dying of want.

“Are you okay?” You got the sense that he was looking at you now, but you didn’t look up at him. What was the correct answer to that question at this point? It was beginning to wear you down, constantly having to pretend that nothing was wrong, that you weren’t dying inside. You let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m scared.” What was the harm in being honest now? Even as...distracted as he surely was, you were certain that Loki could tell what was going on in your head. You pressed your knees together, but that didn’t do anything at all.

“I can help you.” 

God, just like always, the richness and warmth in his voice made you want to hide. It was like the sound traveled straight to your center and spread throughout your body. He didn’t sound hesitant. He didn’t sound reluctant. If anything, there seemed to be the slightest trace of...hopefulness in his voice? Involuntarily, you thought back to Freya calling you a dog, the sound of her laughing, the sound of her using your mere existence to laugh at Loki. It pained you, but you found the strength to shake your head. “It’s okay,” you forced yourself to say. It came out in a whisper. “You don’t have to do that.”

You heard him groan, and despite the amount of pain in the sound, it made you rub your thighs together needily. This was horrendous. He tilted his head backwards again and drew in a breath. “I do.”

“This isn’t your fault, okay? I’m not blaming you for this, and I don’t think anyone else is either. You’re not responsible for what she did.” Loki was not often particularly noble or self-sacrificing, at least in your experience, but knowing that he thought he was required to help you through this...it was mortifying. “You don’t have to do anything to fix it. It’s fine.”

Loki didn’t lift his head to look at you, and in fact covered his eyes with his hands. “I’ve been rock-hard since I took your hand to get you out of that alley.”

A new wave of heat rushed through you, centered mainly on your cheeks. “Oh.” Of course you knew that he’d been affected by the dust. Why else would you have caught him pleasuring himself in your room? But to hear those words, as blunt and even crude as they were… You worried your lower lip between your teeth and studied the pattern of your rug. A tortured silence stretched between the two of you. It was hard to tell exactly how long it lasted. Your internal clock wasn’t really reliable anymore, not with your entire body going haywire like this.

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t the normal, anxious or guilty kind of twist that you were used to: it was...sharper. Ignoring it only seemed to make it worse, and before long you were squirming for entirely new reasons. “Loki?” You hated how small your voice sounded. You just hoped he wasn’t asleep. He responded with a quiet hum. “What… Um. Did you mention…pain?”

“It’s from the increased blood flow and the prolonged tension in the muscles.” He sounded wary. “Are you in pain?” Now you could feel his eyes fixed on you once again. You could only just barely bring yourself to shake your head.

“It’s not bad.” And it wasn’t. Sort of. Compared to a bullet wound, or to having Hydra agents digging through your guts, it was a walk in the park. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from hunching a little, curling in on yourself in hopes of easing some of the worst of it.

You heard him lean forward, likely to rest his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. It was like his gaze was a physical touch, stroking along your skin. You could whimper just from the thought of it. “ _Please_ allow me to take care of you.”

The blood was rushing through your head, pounding in your ears. It would be so easy to say yes right now. If he was someone else, or these were different circumstances, you would have been on your knees in front of him ages ago, begging to taste him. But that beautiful laugh was haunting you, reminding you what you were to him, and it only added to the roiling in your stomach. He sighed. Could you feel his breath caressing your exposed skin, or was that all in your head?

“If you truly want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you in peace, but there’s something… Why? You don’t even have to ask. I want to make it better; all you have to do is tell me yes.”

How much longer could you keep refusing him? You took a breath and pressed your hands to your face. You were already damp again, and your skin felt hot even to yourself. The only thing that kept you from combusting here and now was the icy tendril of fear that was creeping through you. “I won’t let you do that.”

“What, make you feel better?” An edge of irritation was creeping into his voice. It made you feel guilty, but also relieved. If he stormed off in search of someone else, at least the blame for his fall wouldn’t be on your head. 

“No.” You squirmed. Your thighs were trembling from how hard you were still pressing them together. “…Fuck me. I’m Midgardian, you said it yourself.” Your pride wouldn’t let you compare yourself to a dog out loud.

He sighed again, still with that same edge. “I said that because we had no way of knowing how the dust would affect a mortal. I was terrified that she had killed you.” He was quiet for a moment, but then you heard him rise out of the chair. Rather than walking over to you, however, he sank to his knees and crawled. That made it easier for him to catch your eyes. He looked earnest enough. “You are not a dog.” You wanted to close your eyes to block him out, but he reached to grab your wrist, and it made you freeze. “You are a mortal woman. I have seen firsthand your strength and intelligence, you know that I have. Will you still believe the word of that _harlot_ over me?” He drew your wrist up to his lips and pressed gentle kisses to the smooth underside. You couldn’t stop the moan that worked its way out of you. In this state, perhaps something as intense as sex would kill you.

“But what about Thor and Jane?” you ventured, but you could both tell that your defense was growing weak. “If you go back to Asgard, I don’t want your people to—”

He cut you off with a growl and reached for the waistband of your shorts. You yelped involuntarily when he shoved you backwards so he could yank them off, when he dragged your hips to the edge of the bed. He forced your legs apart, not that you fought him very hard, but then he froze and met your eyes. “I have hungered for you since long before she infected us with that dust. Most nights I fall asleep imagining you wrapped around me in some way or another. From the first time I smelled your hunger there on the jet, you have been all that I can think about. But only with your permission.” His eyes were black. You felt dizzy, but you reached down to stroke your fingers through his hair once, then let your head fall back against the mattress.

“Please, Loki.” You had never meant anything more in your life.

This time, he made a sound like a snarl and pressed a kiss to the inside of your thighs. Despite the fervor in his touch and in his movements, he parted you gently and took his time, teasing your slit with the very tip of his tongue rather than moving straight to your clit. When you gasped and fisted your hands in your blanket, you could have sworn that you felt him smile against you. He continued to explore you slowly, tasting every bit of you, pushing his tongue inside you only to take it away immediately afterwards. Tears of frustration leaked out of the corners of your eyes as you arched your hips to get closer to his mouth. He felt so good, but this wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. Just as you began to suspect that he wanted to make you beg, he finally closed his lips around you. Heat shot through your body, making you shudder as he pressed the warm blade of his tongue against you. He was saying something, mumbling against your sex, but it might as well have been Asgardian or Old Norse for all you knew. The gentle vibrations drew you ever closer to release. Of course Loki of the silver tongue could get you off by speaking at you. Vaguely, you felt him slip a finger inside you, and then another, and when he curled his fingers to hit that spot inside you, he sucked hard on your clit and guided you through the waves of pleasure. Were you screaming? It was hard to tell. Somehow he knew exactly how to draw it out, knew how to extract more and more from you, until you were gasping and whining and moaning out for mercy.

When he finally let up, he pressed a single gentle kiss directly against your overstimulated clit and then pulled away. Even all that had done very little to sate the fire that was still raging in you. Thankfully, he seemed to know what you needed: He got to his feet and made quick work of his suit, then guided you into a sitting position so he could tug your t-shirt over your head.

“I wanted to tear this off of you,” he said in a low voice as he let the shirt drop to the floor.

“I ap-preciate your restraint.” Your voice caught embarrassingly in your throat, but he didn’t say a word about it. It was like his body was carved from marble, each perfect curve and swell shaped by the loving hands of a masterful artist. You reached out to touch his bare chest, but he was already reaching for you, and he touched you first. He traced his hands down over the tops of your breasts, then cupped them gently in his hands and tweaked your nipples with his thumbs. The entirety of your focus immediately centered around your breasts, the way he was touching you. You had heard stories of women reaching orgasm simply from someone playing with their breasts, but it had always seemed impossible to you. Right now, you thought foggily, you could understand it.

“Look at you,” Loki said in a hushed tone. He moved closer so he could kneel above you on the mattress. He continued to caress you, somehow knowing exactly how you needed him to touch you. “You perfect creature. How long I have waited for this.” There was a heat to his words, a sincerity, that made you close your eyes. He took advantage of the moment and eased you back to the mattress, lifting your arms above your head so you were spread out for him. How could something as light as his touch drive you so close to the edge? He ran his hands along every inch of your exposed skin as though trying to commit your body to his memory. “I want to taste every part of you. I’ll make you mine. None other will ever lay a finger on you.”

When you opened your eyes, he was studying your face with those dark, ravenous eyes. The last shred of reason that you still possessed warned you that this was only because of the dust, that he could not possibly mean what he said, but that same shred of reason fled before you could bring yourself to care. “I’m already yours.” Your voice was rough, but you knew he could hear the truth in it. 

He paused in his ministrations, seemingly only taking you in. Perhaps he was trying to see how much of your words were because of the dust. Anxious for a distraction, you closed your fingers around his cock. As soon as you did, you heard him draw in a ragged breath. He was warm—no, _hot_ —and dripping. You brushed your thumb across the very tip and then pumped slowly. He was so big. How could you possibly take all of him? This time, your heart thudded in your chest with something like fear.

Before long, he closed his fingers around your wrist to still you. His eyes were burning. “No more,” he said gently. “I want to feel you first.”

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat but nodded and carefully pulled your hand away. He stretched out on top of you. The weight of him felt like your first real tie to solid land, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer. When he reached between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, you moaned again. He was hot, and thick, and bulbous, and even with your own arousal soaking you, you could tell that he was slick with his own. Dizzily, you imagined the way that his pre-cum was mixing with your own wetness and whimpered despite yourself. 

He froze immediately and pulled himself far enough away from you that he could look into your eyes. His face was wet and feverish just like it had been on the jet, but this time you did not stop yourself from reaching up to touch his brow.

“Does it hurt?” He asked in a low voice, his eyes slipping closed at your touch. “Have I hurt you?”

“No.” All you could manage was a whisper. “ _Please_ fuck me. I want you so bad.” Without truly thinking about it, you gently tugged his head down a bit so you could press your lips to his forehead. He moaned low in his throat, and the sound was at once thrilling and gratifying. It was good to know that he was just as sensitive to touch right now as you were. “Please, Loki?”

He didn’t raise his head, didn’t shift away from you, only pushed his hips forward to press himself inside. As wet as you were, he slid inside you easily, despite the way your walls strained to hold him. You gasped and let your head fall back against the mattress, giving in to the feeling of him stretching and filling you. He was unrelenting, and didn’t stop moving until his hips were flush with yours. When he did stop, he lifted his head to look at you.

“Alright?”

Your heart seemed to swell inside your chest. Even now, in the state that the two of you were in, he was still checking on you. You blinked back the sudden tears that threatened to form and nodded wordlessly at him. You were alright. This was perhaps the first time that you had _ever_ been this alright. He gave you a small, crooked grin and pulled his hips back again. He continued to move just as slowly as before, and paused when only the very tip still remained inside you and you were gasping at the emptiness. Before you could find the words to beg him to fill you again, he moved his hand to your hip to hold you close and thrust back inside. He moved with a growing frenzy, fucking deep inside of you and pulling out only far enough to allow him to plunge back inside. It was hard to breathe. The only thing that kept you from falling apart, dissolving into stardust and floating away, was the solid, heavy warmth of his body on top of yours. Your fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders, seeking any kind of solid grip. You wrapped one leg around his waist and the new angle dragged still more pleasured moans out of you. He fit like he’d been made for you, or you for him, or, hell, both. Were you holding him too tightly? Were you hurting him? As if he’d read your mind, he tightened his bruising grip on your hips, and even that dull pain made you cry out and arch into him.

“Are you ready?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m going to come inside you.”

Another involuntary cry escaped you and you clutched his back even more tightly. “I’m there,” you said. Perhaps you’d been right there ever since he first pushed inside you. Before long, his rhythm faltered, stuttered a bit, and you could feel him throbbing. It was happening. He was coming. You had helped him come. That knowledge was the final straw. You finally tipped over the edge of bliss, clinging tightly to the Asgardian prince as your body helped to milk him dry.

You could not release him until your body began to return to normal. A little embarrassed at just how tightly you’d been holding him, you tried to move your hands to cover your face, but he wouldn’t let you. He had already reached up to cup your cheek in his palm, and was brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. What could you say to him right now? You wanted to thank him, but...that was weird, right? Or was it? To thank someone for fucking the life out of you so you wouldn’t die of a stroke because of alien sex-dust? You licked your lips.

The movement caught his attention, and you watched as he gazed at your mouth. “I’d like to kiss you,” he said. “Is that alright?” He made eye contact with you again and you had to try not to laugh. His cock was still pressed deep inside you, your muscles were still fluttering around him, and he thought he needed permission to kiss you?

“You never have to ask,” you managed. “I’d like that too.”

Something like relief softened his features and he gave you a gentle nod. But he didn’t go directly in for a kiss. First he leaned down to press his nose to the tender spot behind your ear. Already, goosebumps erupted throughout your body and you shivered. The only indication he gave that he noticed was a quiet laugh, more of a puff of air, and then a long, warm exhale against your skin. When he’d finished, he pressed his lips to that same spot, and then kissed a long, gentle trail from there to the corner of your mouth. Your lips parted as you drew in a breath. He took advantage of that moment to slant his mouth across yours, already running his tongue along your lower lip. His kiss stoked that fire in your belly—it was not as pressing or painful as it had been earlier, but it still burned inside you. You felt yourself clamp down around him and arched to get even closer, not that that was humanly possible. 

You had fantasized about this here and there. Kissing him. Having him kiss you. In your head, he was always hungry, demanding, taking what he wanted exactly as he wanted. The real Loki was...similar. He explored your mouth, claimed it, with a hunger that seemed to go beyond the way he’d emptied himself inside you. But there was also a tenderness in him that you hadn’t quite expected. He was still caressing your face. From time to time he would break the kiss so he could press his forehead to yours, kiss your temple. He did things to your heart that no one else had ever done. Each time he returned his lips to yours, you whimpered with fresh desire.

Slowly, you began to notice that he was thrusting again. As his mouth claimed yours, he was moving within you again. This time he did not build to a frenzy. He maintained the same slow, constant pace and somehow also managed to keep kissing you. There was something about the way he claimed you in both places at once that made you feel safe. He was still covering you with his body, shielding you from the world. A tortured sob wracked through you, and you had to turn your face away from him for a moment. He didn’t miss a beat, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“Is this okay?” He asked as though he already knew the answer. You worked your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“You’re so _good_...” It was hard, but you got the words out. They sounded a lot like a whine, but that couldn’t be helped. Still, you held even closer, in hopes of distracting him from the sound. He chuckled, and the low sound so close to your ear made you tighten around him.

“As are you.” He took your earlobe between his teeth and bit down, but not so hard as to hurt. “I can feel how you stretch to take my cock, but you take it all without complaints. My good girl.” You shuddered at the rasp in his voice, the meaning behind his words. When you tightened around him, he growled appreciatively and pushed just a little bit harder to force himself inside anyway. He shifted to move his hand to touch you. It was obscene, how wet you were, but you couldn’t hide your face from him. And at least some of the wetness, you realized, was his semen dripping out around him. Fuck. Again you pressed your hips higher so he could slide deeper inside you. He drew careful circles around your clit in perfect time with his thrusts. “You are, aren’t you? You’ll be my girl even after you’re well?”

Like there was any other possible answer. He’d gotten you close enough that you were gasping now, your hands once again fisted in the blanket. You nodded. “If you’ll have me.” It occurred to you in a flash that this could be a trick, or he could still be under the effects of the dust, but what did it matter? Like it wasn’t already obvious that you were absolutely wrecked for him? You were his for as long as he would have you. Hell, at this point you were his even if he didn’t want you.

“I’ll have you, pretty girl,” he breathed into your ear, and then trailed kisses back to your mouth. He went back to tasting you, kissing you, pushing you under, and between his mouth and his fingers, it didn’t take long before you were awash in still another orgasm. He continued with his rhythm, and it only prolonged your pleasure. It was hard to breathe.

“Wait,” you gasped out as soon as your body mostly came down from that high. “Loki, stop.”

He did so immediately, albeit reluctantly. He buried himself inside you one more time before pulling away completely. The sudden loss was almost painful, and you had to reach to grip his shoulders. Thankfully, your leg was still wrapped around him and kept him from retreating too far, but you still missed the way he filled you. 

“What is it? Are you hurt?” The concern in his voice nearly made you break down again, but you only shook your head and tried to pull him back down to your lips.

“I’m fine. It feels so good, Loki. But I want to be on top for a while. I want to make _you_ feel good.”

He kissed you again, deeply and hungrily, before pulling away one last time. This time, he arranged himself near the head of your bed, propped amongst your pillows rather like a king upon a throne. You smiled despite yourself and crawled over to join him. Though you might have liked to take him into your mouth and finally— _finally_ —taste him, he immediately reached to help you get into position. If all this “be my girl” stuff wasn’t just the dust talking, you’d have plenty of time to taste him, you told yourself, and rubbed the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“The heat is fading, but that doesn’t mean I have much patience for games,” he said, taking a firm grip of your hips and guiding you down. As before, you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, and bit your lip to keep from crying out. If it was possible, he seemed to press even deeper inside you in this position. You took a moment to catch your breath before slowly moving your hips to grind against him. He sighed deeply and drew in a breath of his own. “This is exactly what I wanted when you were on my lap on the plane. I don’t know how I kept myself from taking you right there.”

“I was mortified, Loki.” Your cheeks burned, this time more with embarrassment than with desire. He smirked and held you a little more tightly, guiding you into a rhythm of his choosing.

“You were magnificent.”

Any reply you could possibly have offered him was cut off as he found _just the right spot_ inside you and made you shudder. It spurred you on, gave you the courage to move a little faster, take him a little deeper. This was everything you’d ever thought it could be, and so much more. You could feel him throbbing, swelling inside you, and you knew it meant he was close. You redoubled your efforts, desperate to make him feel as good as he made you feel. He moved one hand away from your hip to press his fingers against you, and you choked and faltered a bit.

“N-no, Loki, no more. I can’t.” And you couldn’t. You might explode, or just dissolve away into nothingness. You had nothing left. You tried to pull his hand away, but he wouldn’t be moved.

“Just one more, darling. One more for me? I can’t get enough of you.” Those big green eyes took in the sight of you, watched your breasts as you rode him, pleaded with you, even as he twisted and pinched your throbbing clit. Something broke inside you and you nodded weakly. He laughed quietly and held your hip even tighter. “You’re such a good girl. You’ll come for me one more time, won’t you? You’ll let me feel you flutter around my cock as you take your pleasure from me?” He continued to murmur still more filthy words of praise, but your hearing seemed to fade as he worked you into one final orgasm. When you gasped out a warning, he laughed again and began thrusting into you from beneath, and it was all too much for you. You came, hard, and you wailed his name throughout because there was nothing else you _could_ do. Your entire body felt as though it were made of pure bliss. Dimly, you could hear him moan and feel the heat and throbbing that told you he was coming again. Somehow that dust had carved out every last scrap of pride in your body, and Loki had gone and filled those empty places with pleasure. 

Gradually, he began to fall still once more. Your hands were braced against his chest, your nails digging in nearly hard enough to draw blood. For a time, both of you were silent except for your gasping breaths as your bodies finally returned to something approaching normalcy. Actual normalcy. Loki was beginning to soften inside you. You were sore, but in the best way. Perhaps the worst was over.

One last long breath and you started to sit up. You’d made a mess here, and surely Loki would want to leave now that things were fine again. Before you could pull away from him, he slid his arms up and around your back so that he could pull you down onto his chest. You could hear his heartbeat—strong and steady—and it soothed you. You tried not to smile as you closed your eyes to rest a moment.

“Are you—” Loki’s voice came out too loud at first, and made you flinch. He cleared his throat and rubbed your back in apology. “Are you...still mine?”

For several long moments, you could do nothing but marvel at the question. You had been so certain that all that talk of his was just because of the dust, or possibly because of his momentary desire—and he’d thought the same of you? Perhaps you took too long, because you felt his grip around you start to loosen, heard him draw in a breath to say something. Quickly, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. With trembling fingers, you reached out to caress his cheek. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

“Loki. I will be yours for as long as you want me. I promise. That wasn’t…the dust.” You traced the delicate skin beneath his eye, smoothed your hand along his cheekbone. Every inch of him was perfect.

He took your hand and brought it to his lips to kiss each of your fingertips in turn. Only then did he open his eyes. His pupils were no longer blown, though you did catch the way they widened a bit when he looked at you. You felt yourself begin to smile, and he mirrored the expression. “I want you every day of my life, darling. I’ll show you.”

But then, rather than any grand sweeping gesture, he merely guided your head back down to rest against his chest. You let him. His skin was cooling now, but still carried the intoxicating scent of him. As you breathed him in, the day’s exertion finally began to crash down around you. It had been long, and tiring, and confusing, and yet somehow, despite everything, also beautiful. Loki carefully worked his fingers through your hair, easing away the knots and tangles, and you stopped fighting to keep your eyes open. His heartbeat and his touch lulled you to sleep.


End file.
